


Desire (I'm Hungry)

by Hannigrammatic



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Jealousy, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 10:37:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8053078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannigrammatic/pseuds/Hannigrammatic
Summary: Hannibal is unimpressed with Will's games.





	Desire (I'm Hungry)

**Author's Note:**

> Was in the mood to write a little smut~
> 
> Title is of course in homage to Desire, by Meg Myers. Such a sexy song! ♥
> 
> Not beta read.

Hannibal can still smell her on Will when the young man arrives at their next evening session. Everything that was familiar, the time, those blue eyes peering at him when the door opens to admit him from the waiting room --dark curls slicked neatly over his head, jawline smooth and facial hair trimmed neatly, body encased in a navy button down and black slacks and shiny leather shoes--, all of it is tainted.

Again, and it is a rare enough occurrence, Hannibal curses his overly sensitive olfactory system. He knows Will has showered, even, but still her feminine scent lingers. Their session proceeds without incident, and when Will leaves, Hannibal shuts the door behind him and then leans against it. Jealousy isn’t new to him. What is new, however, is the extent to which Hannibal is filled with it, eyes shutting and lip curling at the thought of his patients commingling with each other, accompanied by a bottle of whisky and a flickering fireplace burning a fresh log.

Margot Verger enters his office the next day, and somehow smelling Will on her is worse. It cements within Hannibal a decision that he’d already been considering with mild amusement.

What happens after, well… 

“What did you do?” Will hisses later, after he had visited Margot in the hospital.

Hannibal is summarily proud of the man’s suspicion. He cocks one brow upwards minutely, and barely manages to _not_ smirk. 

Will strides closer, until their shoes are touching. His narrowed eyes somehow annoy Hannibal the most, and quickly --Will is righteously angry, and over what? Did he truly wish to be a father to another child, when he had one with Hannibal himself? Jealousy snaps into anger, a spark that ignites Hannibal into action. His fingers grip soft curly hair, and he lurches forwards to smash his mouth into Will’s; the other’s surprise causes a mouth to open in shock, and Hannibal plunges his tongue in there without preamble to taste and conquer. 

A growl rumbles in Will’s throat, and _that_ drives Hannibal further over the edge into madness, tinged heavily with lust and absolute need. He drives Will backwards, hands clutching shoulders and guiding the shorter man into the door, and there he traps him. It takes Hannibal several seconds to realize that Will isn’t attempting to stop him, however: in fact his arms are quickly encircling the taller man’s neck and pulling him ever closer. 

“Jesus,” Will hisses when they part to draw breath. “About fucking time.”

Hannibal narrows his eyes, panting slightly. He takes in the blush pinkening Will’s cheeks, stares long into blue eyes gone black with large pupils, and then that jealous anger returns. He lets out his own growl and shoves Will away, turning him swiftly around until he is facing the door and smacking into it. There’s a small sound of shock before it devolves into a moan when Hannibal follows, pressing the length of his body flush into the other’s. He inserts his knee between Will’s legs and nudges upwards, rubbing it against the younger man’s clothed ass and balls.

“Fuck,” Will breathes.

He looks over his shoulder at Hannibal, and the older man smirks triumphantly. He surges forwards and clamps his mouth down along Will’s pulse point, gripping those curls once more to draw the man’s head closer and not paying mind to the awkward angle. 

“A man of games,” Hannibal grumbles into Will’s ear, and he nips at the shell of it before pulling away.

Will is panting, remaining where he is and looking at Hannibal with heavy-lidded eyes over his shoulder once more. Slowly, he turns around until his spine meets the door once more, where he arches his neck invitingly. Hannibal arranges his face into a controlled expression as he takes another step away.

“Did you think of me when you fucked her, Will?” he asks, tone neutral.

The young man’s eyes widen and his face reddens even more. Hannibal slowly directs his gaze to the bulge tenting the other’s slacks, obscene and demanding attention. He makes a show of observing the reaction, before turning his back on Will.

“I did,” Will says, loudly and perhaps a bit petulantly. “I thought about you taking me from behind, as I took her. When I came inside of her, I wished it were you filling me instead.”

Hannibal’s body draws taut. He shuts his eyes tight and calms himself with great difficulty. From behind him, he can sense Will standing straight and taking a step towards him. A hand reaches out, and before it can meet with Hannibal’s shoulder, he turns.

“And yet you still chose her,” he roars.

He ignores Will’s shout of surprise, lifts the man under his arms and bodily throws him onto the chaise longue. The impact is met with a grunt, Will’s shoulder hitting it at an uncomfortable angle; Hannibal ignores that as well, strides forwards and then plants one knee into the small of the other’s back. He leans forward with considerable weight as he captures one arm and twists it harshly to incapacitate Will.

“Wha-what are you doing?” Will cries out, body tensing.

Will struggles, or tries to for a full minute before he gets the clue and stills. When that happens, Hannibal releases the younger man and then moves until he’s straddling Will’s lower legs. 

“You’ve brought this on yourself,” he informs Will when blue eyes, widened still, look over at him once more.

Hannibal loosens the man’s belt and then tosses it onto the floor. The slacks are undone and pulled over a trim waist and thighs, blue boxer briefs joining them, until Will’s ass is bared to him. He wastes no time in spreading the supple asscheeks wide, thumbs rubbing firmly inwards to reveal a twitching, pink hole. 

“You won't last long,” Hannibal says over the sound of Will’s squirming and mewling moans. “And when you come, you will have no other choice but to think of me, as it will be my tongue undoing you.”

Will’s face is buried into the chaise cushion, but at those words, he tenses, perhaps just now realizing what is about to happen. His pink lips open, words forming --Hannibal growls and buries his face between those asscheeks, tongue wetly prodding and swirling into the hole winking at him with no patience to be had. The body beneath him jolts in shock, twitching hard, and the cock hanging heavy between Will’s thighs isn’t long in dripping copiously, with the way Hannibal devours the feast now before him. 

“Oh god, oh fuck,” Will mutters, voice high-pitched, and he utters those words on and on, a mantra delivered between whines and moans as his body arches and attempts to simultaneously move towards and away from the wet, hot muscle spearing him open.

Hannibal drops all pretense of dignity and shakes his head nearly roughly, fucking Will open with demanding flicks and thrusts of his tongue, as deep as he can go, and until his chin is soaked with his own saliva. His thumbs sink forward and dip into the loosening hole, until they are both passed the first knuckle. He spreads Will’s asshole wider, marvels at the twitching and clenching furl of muscle, and eats him out until he’s coming in thick spurts, cock untouched and spilling onto the chaise. And even then, Hannibal doesn’t stop, long fingers squeezing asscheeks hard enough to bruise and keeping him in place to be tormented.

“S-stop,” Will begs, body overly sensitized. “Oh god, please stop.”

Hannibal stops. He pulls his face away from still spread cheeks but leaves his thumbs dug deep inside for a long moment. Will’s upper body is collapsed onto the longue in exhaustion, eyes shut tight as breath heaves in and out of him. Finally, Hannibal withdraws completely, until he’s standing over Will (he slips his thumbs out of the tight hole and smirks as it sucks at him, as if reluctant to release him.)

“Think about this, Will,” he says. “When next you wish to play games with me.”

He walks away without waiting for Will to respond, and claims his usual seat. He sits and crosses his legs as he would normally do, though it’s quite difficult this time considering the fact that his own cock is throbbing and in need of attention. Hannibal will see to it later, after Will has gained his feet and pulled his pants up with shaking hands, body quivering and eyes downcast deliberately as he cleans up after himself; after Will has thrown the soiled tissue out and taken his leave wordlessly, the door clicking closed behind him.

When Will is gone, the scent of his come is thick in the air, and Hannibal inhales deeply of it, not even slightly ashamed of himself.


End file.
